In Midst of Recovery
by ajremix
Summary: RvB, spoilers through season 9. After an extensive stay at the psych ward, Wash returns to familiars halls and unfamiliar situations.


It was only a test in the unspoken sense. If he could do this without jumping at shadows or having another breakdown, his recommission was assured. He steeled himself, focusing on a point before him and stepped into halls that hadn't changed from his memory, even down to the scuffed edges. He forced himself not to react to the crewmembers that he passed by, forced himself not to see the ones that recognized him and stared. He just walked and waited to see if someone else's memories were going to overlap his own again or if his mind would snap at the anticipation of it.

He walked without seeing, just letting his feet get used to the paths they'd known years ago. Twenty-six steps to the corner, right turn, fifteen to a junction, thirty to a supply closet, eighteen to another corner, left turn, fifty nine passed the lift doors, down the hall, through the doors and suddenly his boots were toeing a wall. A diffused blue light washed over his arms and it filled him with a dread that sank cold and poisonous in the pit of his stomach. He raised his head and looked out of the one-way glass of the locker room and into the hall that led to the weight room. There, just as he remembered, was a ranking board. And no matter how many times he read it, he couldn't understand what he was looking at.

He closed his eyes, took a breath and looked again, yet he still couldn't make sense of the characters that glowed judgmentally down at him. There must still be something wrong with his head because he just _didn't get it_.

"Wash?"

He turned at the sound of his name and it took a moment for his muddled brain to pick out the name whispering across it. "North."

"Hey- I heard they might be bringing you back," though he was smiling, North looked almost like another person. His pale blonde hair had gone almost white and strain aged the strong lines of his face. Wash saw the way North's eyes darted to the side every once in a while, ever alert, bordering on paranoid from a voice in his head and images no one else could see. Wash wondered if North recognized how hollow and haunted his own eyes were.

He turned back to the board, still trying to read it and North came to stand by his side. "Can you believe we still have this? Even when the Project is falling apart around our ears?"

1 Texas

That wasn't at all surprising. It was one of the only things on the list Wash _could _comprehend.

"At least they've stopped the implantation process. We'd probably keep losing Freelancers otherwise."

2 Maine  
>3 Dakotas<br>4 Wyoming

The familiar names were a comfort and yet they still pulled at the flattened corners of his lips.

"Not that there's many of us left, anyway."

5 Montana  
>6 Illinois<p>

"Where's Carolina and York?" They'd never been off the board, not since the moment it was implemented.

North's mouth compressed into a thin line and he turned away from Wash, opening his locker and unlatching the armored plates from his body. "York left the Project."

"He _left_? We can do that?"

There was a laugh that was more bitter than amused. "You know York- try to deny him access anywhere, he'd find a way in. Or out, in this case." It obviously wasn't the whole story but Wash let the silence stretch as North stripped to the black under armor. Then, as he put his boots at the bottom of the locker, he said quietly, "Carolina is dead."

It almost felt like Wash was plunging down into dark, icy waters and he had to grip the wall to stay upright. "Oh."

"The dual AI implantation was too much for her. She killed herself."

How was it possible that two of the most reliable, steadfast people Wash had ever known had come to this? Carolina was always so capable she could take on everyone else's responsibilities on top of her own with ease and York went out of his way to raise morale and make sure everyone had what they needed. Now Wash was being told that Carolina killed herself and York abandoned the team?

He put a hand to his head, trying to figure out if this was actually possible or if maybe his memories were faulty, if maybe Epsilon's presence was still threaded deep in his brain. So Wash asked, "Why 'Dakotas'?"

"Me and South are now an official team. All our missions are together." Wash tried to imagine how South took that news. From the sound of North's voice, it was probably worse. "Wyoming's even more over the top than you probably remember. He hasn't been the same since they took Gamma. And Maine... no one knows what's going on with Maine. He's been..."

As North trailed off Wash finally looked up. The other Freelancer was half dressed in fatigues, trousers belted up and boots pulled on. Wash could see bruises and faded cuts across his back and down his arms. He wondered how many of those were from missions and how many were from training. And how many were from his sister, taking her anger out on him.

"How," Wash's voice broke on the edges and he paused to try again. "What about CT?"

"Don't know exactly," North's response was muffled briefly as he pulled on a shirt. "Last I heard she was doing bullshit work halfway across the galaxy. She's permanently off the Director's good side."

"What happened?"

North turned and just looked at him, as if wondering he should explain. "Officially they're not saying. From what I've heard, she, Tex and York broke into Command."

"What? Why?" Wash's brain suddenly flashed to foreign, familiar halls and _Allison_ ghosted across his thoughts and he had to force them all back before he began panicking and questioning what was real. But, deep in his soul, he knew what they were after.

"No one knows. Except maybe the Director, but he's not going to tell anyone."

So they staged a break in and failed. Then York was allowed to leave and CT got shuffled out of the way and Tex... Wash looked back at the board to where her name was still glowing at the very top, just as it always did.

"Yeah," said North, standing at his shoulder, "I don't get it either, but it's Tex. Still the Director's favorite."

There had to be a connection between her and the Director and the answer felt like it was floating on the edges of his mind where Epsilon had dug in deep but Wash couldn't figure it out. A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of thought.

"Hey, you wanna grab something to eat? Even though the mess is still as tasteless as ever."

It was odd in a distant and slightly disconcerting sort of way being next to an unarmored North while Wash still wore his own. Wash wasn't used to being barely taller than the normally bigger man. Asides from that, he didn't know how comfortable he felt being in a place where so many could just sit and stare at him. But North tugged at his arm and said, "C'mon. We'll head to my quarters- Wyoming's out on mission and I know he's got a bottle of brandy and some cookies stashed away somewhere."

And Wash, just because he couldn't think of anything else to do, let himself get pulled along.


End file.
